


Break the Locks

by NicholasRose



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Established Nabooleon, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicholasRose/pseuds/NicholasRose
Summary: "What does this mean?"Means I like you, Books.""Well, what does that mean?"





	1. Words

**Author's Note:**

> F slur is used. Don't worry, I'm a certified Queer™.

“It's ‘cause we kinda fly now!”

The Get Down Brothers had rocked yet another performance. Loud music- the hypnotic, endless beat created by Shaolin Fantastic’s hands, resting comfortably under the rhymes of each rapper, the smell of weed and sweat, and the overhead lights were overwhelming. Shao was on sensory overload and had to get out. Fast. He let the last track play, said his goodbye's, and followed his brothers out of the club and into the OJ without haste. The boys piled into the car, high off the feeling of success and marijuana. Boo and Napoleon were squeezed together and talking about their sleepover at the Kipling’s house while Dizzee, Ra, Shaolin, and Zeke passed around a thick blunt, tapered at the end. It was an unusual night, the first gig out of town, and everyone was full of nerves, especially Zeke.

“Y'all think we did good?” Zeke inquired. There were a few minor slip-ups that the audience either didn't catch or didn't care about, but they meant everything to him. There were mixed reactions. Leon and Boo Boo were already passed out in each other's arms ten minutes into the ride, Dizzee spewed some shit about the universe and fate and the passage of time when it really wasn't that deep, and Ra gave a simple 'yeah’. Zeke looked at Shao for an answer just to find him staring blankly out of the window. He would've asked right then, but the car had already rolled up to the mansion and the two boys got out with a few parting remarks.


	2. Popcorn

“What's wrong, Shao? You ain't say nothin’ in almost an hour.” Zeke pressed a soft hand to his DJ’s shoulder and got a flinch in response. Shao didn't want to talk about his mini panic attack at the club or how Ezekiel Figuero’s hands always seemed to burn against his skin. He didn't want to talk at all. He saw how much it pained Zeke to think that he was the problem, but Shao still hardened himself and walked into their room without a sound. After a quick lock of the door, Ezekiel rushed up behind Shaolin and spun him around fast, without any sort of grace. Any other day and he would've punched Zeke in his stupid face, but their bodies were pressed too close together for him to get a good angle and he was honestly too tired to care. Instead, he gave up his tough guy act and just rested there in Zeke's embrace.

“'s that fuckin’ club, man. All the lights ‘nd sounds ‘nd shit had me fucked up.” Shao mumbled into Zeke's sternum, feeling the contrast between vinyl and cotton on his shirt. He didn't understand how Zeke’s heartbeat was so slow and steady when his was always about to beat out of his goddamn chest. He was almost jealous. They stood there in the relative silence of their house, the calm only occasionally interrupted by a passing train or sirens, for a few minutes, until Zeke scooped up his DJ over his shoulder and sat him down on their bed.

With everyone's combined money over time and only the slightest bit of theft, The Get Down Brothers had made the temple look damn nice. Thor, the Pretty Boy would come around every so often to add wood paneling or panes of glass and paint walls grey. He had even managed to hang up that chandelier and make it work. Everyone else had chipped in on furniture until they had another couch, a fridge, a microwave, and a whole set up in Zeke and Shao's room. Shaolin was wrapped in soft, black covers while Zeke was in the kitchen doing God-knows-what. He came back in the room with popcorn, jelly beans, and two bottles of Coke.

“What's this?”

“It's called relaxing, Shao. I got snacks- even put cinnamon and sugar on the popcorn like you like it- and we're gonna watch Enter the Dragon because I got it on VCR and I know it's ya favorite.” Zeke explained with a bright, gap-toothed smile on his face as he set the food down and put the VCR into the television. That boy was too fucking sweet and he knew it. Shao beamed as the movie started because his mans was right, it was his favorite.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Zeke might have just pulled the most embarrassing move that has ever been seen. He faked a yawn and stretched his arms in order to wrap it around Shao’s shoulder like some suave ass motherfucker. He couldn't believe it. 

“The hell do you think you're doing, Figuero?” Shao whisper-screamed, not wanting to take his focus away from the movie. He wasn’t opposed to his touch- despite being hyperaware of it- but he didn’t know what to make of Ezekiel’s advance. Was he flirting or was it just Zeke being Zeke?

“Nothing at all. W-what are you doing? I'm watching the movie. I don't know what you're talking about.” The poet was usually so smooth, but with Shao, he tripped over his tongue and couldn’t lie to save his own ass. Nevertheless, he kept his hand where it was.


	3. Flirting

Long after Enter The Dragon had ended and the popcorn was eaten, leaving a pool of cinnamon-y sugar at the bottom of the bowl, Shaolin and Zeke stayed in their bed. Talking about the show and what happened to Shao. All the while, Zeke’s hand remained comfortably on his shoulder as he absentmindedly ran his thumb against Shao’s exposed collarbone.

“Books,” Shao started, not really knowing how. “I gotta ask you something.”

Zeke shifted on the bed to make himself face to face with his DJ. His arm was no longer around him, but Shao still felt it somehow. “What is it, Fantastic?”

“All of this.” he said softly while gesturing to the snacks and the tv and Zeke’s own arm. “Is this- are you flirting with me?” Zeke looked deep in his eyes and his face was unwavered. Did he not hear Shao? Why wasn’t he saying anything? Shaolin was about to ask again when his MC cut him off.

“Do want me to be flirting with you?”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Shao said slyly, gaining confidence and clarity of the situation. In true Shaolin Fantastic fashion, he pulled Zeke in for a short, yet deep kiss. 

"What does this mean?

"Means I like you, Books."

"Well, what does that mean?"

From the doorway, came hell on heels with a gun in one hand and a cigarette in another.

“Means you’re faggot, stupid. And Mama don’t like no faggots.”


	4. Bang

There are only two things that make Shaolin Fantastic want to live, and there was no way in hell that he was going to just let Annie take them. Mustering up some confidence mixed with protective adrenaline, Shao bolted out of bed and shielded Zeke from her. He was sick of the bullshit. He was a whole adult man and frankly, Fat Annie was fucking old. Shaolin punched the gun out of her hand faster than she could pull the trigger, sending a bronze bullet Zeke's way. He ducked out of the bullet's path and took Shao's side while he wrestled with Annie.

“So you just gon’ leave me, baby? You think it's that simple?” Annie questioned, digging her stiletto nails into the tops of Shao's hands. She stared deep into the DJ’s eyes, like she had many times before. When she ‘fucked’ him, when she threatened him, when she said she loved him. Annie wanted Shao to remember those feelings, to become weak under her gaze and retreat into himself. 

To be Curtis again. 

Zeke wasn't just gonna let his newfound love die, especially not at the hands of Annie Caldwell. His family. He finessed the heavy, silver gun from Annie's fingers, took a step back, and pointed the weapon in the center of her forehead.

“Zeke, what the hel- man, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, Shao.” Zeke said dismissively, like he was trying hard to focus on Annie. They stared at each other silently and the wordsmith finally saw her for what she truly was; A scared, old woman. He always knew it, but he himself, was too scared to challenge her. She was terrified and, like Shao, she turned that fear into something useful. Shao was created in her image, but he had something that she lacked. 

Empathy.

“You gonna do it, pretty boy? Kill the only person that's ever cared for ya little faggoty ass boyfriend?” Annie questioned with a smile on her ruby lips. Her eyes gave her away, though. “He's mine and will always be mine, Goddamn it! You don't know what he's done. Or who he's killed, fucked, who he is. A monst-”

Ezekiel wasted no time. He pulled the trigger quick, not wanting to hear her slander Shaolin's name any longer. Annie's grip loosened on Shao's hands, leaving marks in their wake.


End file.
